Orpheus Complex
by Cinis
Summary: "She is dead," the messenger says and Katarina, half-mortal daughter of the Phonoi, terrors of men, with the flashing of steel sends him to join her love beneath the earth with the shades. [Katarina/Riven, Greek mythology] [oneshot]


"She is dead," the messenger says and Katarina, half-mortal daughter of the Phonoi, terrors of men, with the flashing of steel sends him to join her love beneath the earth with the shades.

For months she wanders, heart consumed by rapacious fury, putting out the life of all who cross her path, restless feet taking her from native Lacadaemon to mountainous Boeotia, across storm-tossed Aegean waters, past holy Delos, shelter to Koieis, and great-minded Miletus, to Lydia and finally to the gate of Hades itself, the Ploutonian precinct.

Many times over she has given her tax to death and no priest raises a hand against her passing. What man would dare stand against such a woman, mortal and godly in her rage?

Allowed to cross the gaping threshold, she descends, thoughtless of distant, dwindling light at her back, into the black abyss of the dead, into the wailing realm of the unburied.

For a year and a day she walks muddy banks alongside Acheron, meeting eyes with every wandering shade, searching.

A hundred times over she meets those she condemned. They cower from her tread. Once, she meets that messenger who dared approach her with word of his captain. On his knees he approaches her, alone among all others, and grasps her knees.

"Great daughter of the Phonoi," he begs, "When you leave this place, give me my rites. Let me cross into Hades' house."

Ever subject to fury, she shakes away her supplicant. Her lip curls in a sneer. "You failed your commander," she says, "You have no rights."

At the end of her year and a day, Katarina turns toward Acheron and his ferryman.

The haggard son of Erebos and Nyx, distant in his stitched craft from the reedy shore, challenges then that harbinger of slaughter. He speaks, "I do not serve the living, Katarina, mortal, only the dead. I will not carry you across torturous Acheron so long as your raging heart still beats."

Katarina replies, "How many tolls have I sent to you, god of greed? How many oboloi have been closed in the mouths of dead men because of my work?" Answering herself, she says, "Countless. And if you give me passage, I shall give to you countless more."

At that, Charon bows his gray head and brings his raft to meet her where she stands, black waters lapping at her feet.

Beneath her living weight, the ancient craft sinks almost to the waterline and threatens to submerge completely into the mere.

Across shallow Acheron the ferryman takes her, punting them along through the endless cavern of the dead.

At the far shore, Katarina disembarks in the shadow of iron gates and Charon takes his leave of her.

Unhindered, she crosses past the kennel of the snake-maned hound, guardian against not the entrance of the once-living but the escape of the dead.

Beyond the gates lies a great grey field of asphodel, stretching farther than the eye can see. Through this flowered meadow, Katarina walks, giving not a glance to the unworthy shades that flit about here.

After an eternity, the daughter of the Phonoi comes to a palace made of black marble veined silver with trappings the likes of which no mortal king has ever dreamed.

Wordlessly, faceless guards open the gates of Hades to her and she enters.

Following custom, dark Aidoneus, with his lady, mighty Persephone, beside him, offers food and drink and hospitality.

She reclines with them at his table but she does not eat and she does not drink.

"What brings you then, Katarina, to my house if you will not take what I have to offer?" the ruler of many asks.

"You know why I have come," Katarina answers.

"That, I cannot offer you," replies solemn Hades.

Ever eaten by her anger, Katarina stands, heedless of status and propriety. "You can," she insists. "You will."

Hades responds with a shake of his head, but any reply he might speak his wife silences with a hand on his arm.

"You may take her back to the land of the living," says Persephone, awe-inspiring queen, "If you can convince her to leave with you."

An insolent scoff passes Katarina's lips. "Fine," she says. "Where is she?"

By the order of the great goddess, Katarina is guided from Hades' house, out across the grey fields of asphodel, across mighty Okeanos, to the white isle Elysion.

Here the world is bright, almost as if it is not of the realm of shades. Here, Katarina sees heroes and legends long dead, wandering quietly, lying in the shade of fruit laden trees. Here is the captain of the guard, defender of her city, recognizable by her blades, name lost to the ages. Here is Diana, scorn of the moon, side by side with Leona, sun's champion, in death as they were in life.

Here are all the world's champions, all at peace.

And here is Riven.

Riven sits beneath a red pavilion, eyes closed, resting.

Words stick in Katarina's throat.

Unable to call out, she attempts to approach.

Her feet, though they have carried her so far for so long, fail her now.

Emerald grass is soft beneath her knees.

Finally, anger subsides to grief.

With leaden limbs, Katarina pushes herself up. She turns. She walks away.

Not until she comes to the edge of the isle where land becomes water does she pause, one foot in the boat that will return her to the living, the other foot lingering still on Elysion soil.

She's gone too far now to catch a last glimpse, but she looks back anyway.

Riven stands behind her.

Silent, Riven holds out a hand.

Katarina takes her hand and helps her into the boat.

* * *

_written for a prompt from my friend fallenjudicator -"__Katarina bargains to get riven out of the underworld." first posted on tumblr.  
_


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